Rebirth
by Leonhard van Euler
Summary: During the Yule break of his Sixth year, Harry relives a memory that has been long forgotten. A memory of Merlin's childhood. He soon begins to realise it is not normal for young wizards to relive lives of dead sorcerers and is forced to admit that he isn't really who he thinks he is. Merlin!Reborn PROBABLY DISCONTINUED
1. Chapter 1

_This story will be updated regularly on Sundays for five weeks as I have five pre-writen chapters._

* * *

 _"A man must be big enough to admit his mistakes, smart enough to profit from them, and strong enough to correct them."_

 _~John C. Maxwell_

* * *

They stood in silence as icy as the ground beneath their feet. The gnome had finally managed to extricate his worm and was now sucking on it happily, leaning against the bottom-most branches of the rhododendron bush.

"What is Dumbledore up to?" said Scrimgeour brusquely. "Where does he go, when he is absent from Hogwarts?"

"No idea," said Harry. Technically, he didn't really know _where_ he went.

"And you wouldn't tell me if you knew," said Scrimgeour, "would you?"

"No. I wouldn't," replied Harry, secretly liking the way Scrimgeour visibly deflated - like child who had just been denied a treat from his mother.

"Well, then, I shall have to see whether I can't find out by other means." The man said in a defeated tone. Harry eyed him shrewdly, obviously he was now attempting to guilt trip Harry, by appearing defeated.

"You can try," said Harry indifferently. "But you seem cleverer than Fudge, so I'd have thought you'd have learned from his mistakes. He tried interfering at Hogwarts. You might have noticed he isn't Minister anymore, but Dumbledore's still Headmaster. I'd leave Dumbledore alone, if I were you."

There was a long pause as a number of different emotions appeared and then disappeared on the Minister's face. Harry smirked inwardly, the man was ridiculously easy to read - it was a wonder he had become the Minister for Magic.

"Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you," said Scrimgeour, his eyes cold and hard behind his wire-rimed glasses. "Dumbledore's man through and through, aren't you, Potter?"

Harry didn't hesitate to reply, "Yeah, I am. Glad we straightened that out."

With that, he turned his back on the Minister for Magic, and strode back the way he had come. The snow crunched beneath his feet but he paid it no mind. Glancing upwards, and straightening out his glasses, he noticed most of the Weasley family was glued to the windows that looked onto the front yard, obviously trying to see what was happening. Harry pretended not to notice, and instead made his way to the Quidditch pitch. He needed to think and the Quidditch place was always the perfect spot for that.

.

His arms ached, showing him that he needed to exercise a little more. Then again, he _had_ just pulled himself to the highest hoop of the northern side of the Weasley's Quidditch pitch. Harry placed his foot on the hoop and rested his back on the opposite side, and let his left leg swing back and forth.

His conversation with Scrimgeour had been an eye-opener - this war was becoming increasingly more political and that made Harry anxious. He had always detested politics.

Politicians were liars - professional liars - who loved to coerce, blackmail and suck up to people to achieve their personal goals. As far as he saw it, he was safer with Voldemort than with that pack of hyaenas.

Harry ruffled his hair and the snowflakes that still hadn't melted fell to the ground, joining the coat of diamonds which lay upon the ground. These last few months had been odd. There had been an increasingly strong feeling of foreboding growing in the pit of his stomach. Something was going to happen soon, something bad, something worse than Voldemort.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his mind of those oppressive thoughts. He never managed to, as a gust of wind suddenly caught him and he was easily blown off the hoop - much like the snowflakes that he had shaken off moments ago. He hit his head on the icy, hard ground beneath the blanket of snow and he knew no more.

.

 _He was experiencing another vision._

 _Harry blinked as he looked around… this wasn't right. It was winter, not summer… yet as he stared around him, Harry noticed that he appeared to be in a small village with miserable, small huts made out of wood. Most houses had a small fence around the back with an assortment of farm animals. The air smelled of them too._

 _The sun shone brightly above his head, making his skin itch a little._

 _Harry blinked rapidly, this wasn't a normal vision. Usually whenever he had one, he experienced everything through Voldemort's or Nagini's eyes, he saw things clearly, but not as clearly as now, and he certainly didn't_ feel _the sun on his face and skin. He didn't smell smells either._

 _Harry sighed, and was forced to conclude that this wasn't a Voldemort induced vision. After all, he was sure Voldemort hadn't lived during the medieval era - and this was most certainly that moment in time… judging by the state of the village._

 _Gazing about in confusion, he suddenly caught sight of a young boy - perhaps six or seven - clutching his knees to his chest as he hid in the shadows of a house. He was dressed in loose, worn, threadbare trousers and a tunic. A rope was tied around his waist to keep his trousers up._

 _Taking pity on the obviously sad boy, he approached him. Suddenly wondering whether this vision was a vision at all, he poked the boy, and found that his finger sailed right through the boy's shoulder. Frowning, Harry gazed at him more intently._

 _Now that he had come closer, Harry could see that the boy was staring at his hands, amazement, anguish, terror and bafflement swirling in his eyes._

 _"…_ _I can do magic," the boy whispered to himself and Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. Then slowly, the boy reached down next to him and plucked the bud from a flower. He cupped his hands around it and let out a breath. Then, suddenly something very unexpected happened. HIs eyes flashed gold and then almost magically - no… not almost - magically, the bud started to open, revealing a beautiful dandelion._

 _Harry stared at the exhibit of magical power. Accidental magic was common with children - hell,_ he'd _experienced a lot of it - but a child who could control his accidental magic wilfully! Unheard of!_

 _There was a sudden shout and both the boy and Harry raised their heads to the direction from which it was coming. Harry's eyes widened as he saw a gang of slightly older boys - about nine or ten - approaching. One of them had a large stick in his hand and was slapping his other hand with it as if to measure its sturdiness._

 _"_ _Well, well, well… If it isn't the Freak."_

 _The boy Harry had been observing for the last few minutes scrambled to his feet, holding the blooming flower to his chest. Harry almost snarled at the gang - he hated bullies. With_ passion. _And he hated that name almost more than he hated the bullies themselves._

 _"_ _Leave me alone Reynard!" The boy exclaimed, his voice trembling. Harry suddenly fiercely wanted to do to stop the bullies from doing whatever they wanted to do._

 _"_ _Awww, the little Freak's frightened," The leader, now identified as Reynard said in a mocking tone. His minions around him sniggered as if Reynard had said something particularly witty. Harry was suddenly reminded very strongly of Dudley._

 _"_ _John, Leonard." He suddenly commanded, his voice very cold. Two boys - the tallest and broadest of the group marched forwards, and grabbed hold of the boy's arms so as to immobilise him. One of them wrenched the flower from his hand._

 _"_ _No! Give it back! It's mine!" The boy said, his voice laced with anger and fear. The thug grinned maliciously and chucked the flower to Reynard who threw it at the ground and then stepped on it rather forcefully._

"Harry?"

 _The punching started._

"Harry!"

 _His view of the scene was steadily becoming worse._

"He's waking up!"

Harry's eyes fluttered open and it took him a moment to orientate himself. He was lying on the longest sofa in the Weasley's living room, a cushion had been placed under his head, and his feet were being held up by someone. It was then, that he was suddenly aware of the spiking pain at the back of his head.

Groaning, he raised his hand to the back of his head. It was wet. Groaning again, Harry examined his fingers which were tainted with his blood.

"Oh, Harry! We were so worried!" Exclaimed Hermione - she was kneeling next to him and holding his left hand. Ron, being the tall and muscled guy he was, was holding his legs up. Mrs Weasley was fluttering about him, arranging the pillow and blanket draped over his body.

"Honestly, Harry? What were you thinking, sitting up there?" Mrs Weasley cried as she gently brushed his hair out of his face. "You are more of a danger to yourself than You-Know-Who!"

Two twin laughs were heard from the corner of the room and Harry shifted his gaze to examine the twins. George winked at Harry.

Harry smiled - their concern was heartwarming, if a little excessive. "I'm alright. Honestly."

He jerked his feet out of Ron's grip and let them fall on the couch.

"Mrs Weasley already healed your skull, but you still have a concussion." Hermione said quietly, letting go of his hand and standing up. Ron patted his shoulder.

"Yeah, we were all pretty worried. Mum even wanted to get you to St Mungo's."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"You cracked your skull." Ginny, who was leaning against an armchair with her arms crossed, said in a rather blunt tone. Harry winced.

"But I'm fine now. See, I can stand up." To prove his point, Harry stood up only to feel a wave of nausea hit him. He fell back down on the sofa and grimaced.

"Ok. Maybe not so fine."

"Oh, Merlin's baggy y-fronts (Harry felt oddly affronted at Ginny's poor choice of words), you're so stubborn!" Said girl vanished up the stairs.

Mrs. Weasley, who had vanished a few moments ago, returned, carrying two vials clutched in her hand, in the other, she carried a cup of freshly made tea.

.

It was a few nights later - the night before they were supposed to go back to Hogwarts, when it happened again.

He had been lying in bed, when suddenly an odd squashing feeling, which sort of resembled apparition, had engulfed him.

 _This time, he was standing on a road leading up to a large, medieval castle. It was built in an early medieval age architectural style, leading Harry to believe that these visions were happening sometime during the 900's. Hogwarts, in comparison, was built in the Gothic era - almost 200 years later._

 _Harry instinctually tried to slide between people rushing to the castle, but found after a few moments that, just like a ghost, they seemed to simply walk through him. Gazing around himself, Harry was amazed at how much hygiene and style had changed over the years. It was at that moment - while he was boggling the peasants around him, that he caught sight of a boy his age._

 _He had stopped walking and was staring up at the castle, transfixed. A small smile played on his lips and as Harry caught sight of his emerald eyes, he realised with shock that it was the same boy he had seen in his first vision. The boy - young man now - was of medium height, but his lean, thin body made him look taller than he was._

 _A tunic - one similar to the one he had worn in his childhood - was hanging loosely over his body and on his right shoulder he carried a large leather bag, filled to the brim with things._

 _"_ _Oi! Don' just stand there!" A nasty voice said, and suddenly the wizard was shoved to the ground. The large woman in question stumbled past him, carrying a large haystack on her shoulders. The young man's yes narrowed and suddenly his eyes flashed gold._

 _Harry watched, transfixed, as the laces of her thick, leather boots tied together and she toppled to the ground. Wandless magic! This wasn't just accidental magic - not anymore… this was consciously done wandless magic!_

 _The young wizard smiled in delight and continued making his way up to the castle._

 _._

Late in the afternoon, the next day, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione lined up beside the kitchen fire to return to Hogwarts. The Ministry had arranged this one-off connection to the Floo Network to return students quickly and safely to the school. Only Mrs Weasley was there to say goodbye, as Mr Weasley, Fred, George, Bill and Fleur were all at work.

Mrs Weasley dissolved into tears at the moment of parting. Admittedly, it took very little to set her off lately; she had been crying on and off ever since Percy had stormed from the house on Christmas Day with his glasses splattered with mashed parsnip (for which Fred, George and Ginny all claimed credit).

"Don't cry, mum," said Ginny, patter her on the back as Mrs Weasley sobbed into her shoulder. "It's ok…"

"Yeah, don't worry about us," said Ron, blushing as his mother placed a wet kiss upon his cheek. "Or Percy. He's such a prat, it's not really a loss, is it?"

Mrs. Weasley sobbed harder than ever as she enfolded Harry in her arms.

"Promise you'll look after yourself… stay out of trouble and don't sit on any Quidditch hoops…"

"I always do stay out of trouble, Mrs Weasley," said Harry with a grin, "I like a quiet life, you know me."

She gave a watery chuckle, hugged Hermione, whispered something into her ear and stepped back.

"Be good, then, all of you…"

Harry stepped into the emerald fire and shouted, "Hogwarts!" He had one last fleeting view of the Weasley's kitchen and Mrs Weasley's tearful face before the flames engulfed him; spinning very fast, he caught blurred glimpses of other wizarding rooms, which were whipped out of sight before he could get a proper look; then he was slowing down, finally stopping squarely in the fireplace in Professor MyGonagall's office. She barely glanced up from her work as he clambered out over the grate.

"Evening, Potter. Try not to get too much ash on the carpet."

"Of course not, professor."

Harry straightened his glasses and flattened his hair as Ron came spinning into view, quickly followed by Ginny and Hermione. When all of them had arrived, they trooped our of McGonagall's office and off towards Gryffindor Tower.

They were about to enter the Tower when Harry's biggest fan - Colin Creevey - rushed up the stairs towards them. "Harry!" He exclaimed as he reached the group. Hermione hid her amused smile behind a hand and murmuring the password to the Fat Lady (who looked a little hungover), entered the common room with Ginny.

Colin rummaged in his pocket for a moment, hand going in much deeper than it was supposed to, and pulled out a scroll of parchment with Dumbledore's handwriting on it.

"Here!" He said, an excited expression on his face. "Dumbledore asked me to give this to you."

Harry thanked him and the boy entered the common room before the portrait closed.

"Great," said Harry, unrolling the scroll at once to discover that his next lesson with Dumbledore was scheduled for the following Friday. "I'm meeting him Friday night."

Before Ron could answer, the portrait opened again (the Fat Lady rolled her eyes and harrumphed, but opened nevertheless) and Lavender hurtled herself at Ron, snogging him quite soundly. "Won-Won!" She exclaimed then continued snogging him. Harry sniggered and entered the common room, leaving them outside.

.

History of Magic was as boring as ever, but as this was the new term and Harry had promised Hermione that he would do better after the New Year, he forced his eyes to stay open and his quill to stay in his hand.

He tried note taking, but instead started drawing doodles. After a while, he realised they were all Medieval-era themed. Hermione kept giving him _looks_ , she had already given up hope on Ron who was snoring away, which meant that Harry was now her main focus.

Grinding his teeth, Harry forced his sleep-deprived mind to stay awake. The visions were now happening every night and were seriously disturbing his sleep. He'd been seeing visions of that young man. Well.. not so young anymore. In each vision he seemed a little - about a year - older. He had by now, found out that his name was Emrys… well that was what the Druids called him.

Emrys had once shouted at a retreating Druid that his name wasn't Emrys and that they had confused him with another person. That had been the vision when a Druid had told Emrys that he was destined for great things. That had made Harry shudder. Some of the similarities between Emrys and himself were frightening… some of the things people said to Emrys had been once upon a time said to Harry.

He briefly considered going to Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey about his visions, but then decided against it. He had started seeing them after he'd hit his head. If he ever mentioned what had happened, he would instantly be sent to St Mungo's ward for insanity.

He felt a hard pencil hit his head, and glancing around, he noted that everyone seemed to be asleep so he turned to Hermione and found her staring at him with steely eyes. In her had she held a yellow pencil.

Harry held up his hands in surrender, then picked up his quill and tried to concentrate on Professor Binns.

"…Camelot had a very formidable wall…" Harry straightened in his seat as he heard that name. He leaned forwards and stared at the teacher in surprise. He had heard that name countless of times in his visions. Emrys now resided in Camelot. The first vision Harry had had at Hogwarts was when Emrys had arrived at Camelot.

"…and nothing could get through them. The few creatures and armies that did, found themselves confronted with the Knights of Camelot and their inner circle - the Knights of the Round Table."

Harry stared at the ghost, he hadn't known of the Knights of the Camelot! They hadn't come up in his visions yet!

"…And of course, their leader King Arthur." Harry frowned. As far as he knew, Camelot was currently ruled (in his visions) by the ruthless King Uther - and he didn't have a son… not even a wife. Harry sighed in disappointment. Whatever historical event Binns was talking about had probably happened later on in Camelot's history.

"…and at their side, stood the Warlock Merlin."

Harry blinked. Of course! Hadn't he once heard his first grade teacher reciting this story? As a child he hadn't been read to much - well, only if one counted the few times he had managed to sneak under Dudley's bed before Petunia told him his bedtime story. He didn't know that many and always found himself lost whenever Hermione named a 'famous' character from some story or other.

Glancing at Hermione, he saw that she had already written eleven inches worth of notes. Looking down at his own parchment, Harry winced. He only had two or three lines of text and about ten inches of doodles.

"…Merlin, also known as Emrys…"

His voice seemed to disappear. Suddenly, the only thing Harry could hear, was the name he has just uttered. It wasn't possible, was it? How? Why? Harry gulped and grit his teeth, trying to refrain from shouting out his shock. How had this happened. Was Emrys a common name? Was it just a coincidence that he was having visions from Emrys' life? Was his Emrys a different Emrys?

He was brought back to the classroom when he felt Hermione tap his forearm. His gaze fell upon her parchment whereupon he saw the names Camelot, Merlin/Emrys and Arthur.

No, his Emrys and Merlin were the same person.

And no, it was certainly not a coincidence.

* * *

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you very much for reading! Just to make it clear - this is _not_ a Harry Potter/Merlin crossover. I am taking several elements from the BBC show Merlin, but this is in no way a crossover.

* * *

The first Thursday of the new term brought with itself the first apparition lesson. Naturally, most of the sixth years, who were turning seventeen before the 31st of August and had paid the twelve galleon fee, were simultaneously nervous and bursting with excitement.

Harry personally, didn't feel that same unquenchable curiosity most of his classmates felt. As he had already apparated twice before - once with Dumbledore earlier in the summer and once as a little child - and had felt that apparition was the most uncomfortable of wizarding travel, he didn't really _want_ to know how to apparate. Nevertheless, the fact that he had in fact apparated once before travelled quickly down the Hogwarts social grapevine and soon he found himself bombarded with requests to describe the sensation.

Many walked away, disappointed, when Harry explained to them that apparition was actually quite uncomfortable and made one feel as if one was being pushed through a thin rubber tube. Harry actually preferred flying much more. Their spirits were, however not dampened as Harry soon saw them almost _skipping_ to the Great Hall, where the lessons were to take place.

No one really knew what these apparition lessons would be like, or who would teach them, therefore they were all quite surprised, when upon entering the Great Hall, they found that the house tables had disappeared, and instead the whole Hall was filled with… hoops of varying colours.

"Good afternoon," said the Ministry Apparition Instructor - a thin, frail, old man - when all the students had arrived and the Heads of House had called for quiet. "My name is Wilkie Twycross as I shall be your Ministry Apparition Instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to prepare you for your Apparition test in this time, by which time, many of you may be ready to take your test," Twycross said in monotone as if he had recited this speech many, many times.

"As you may know," he continued, "It is usually impossible to Apparate or Disparate within Hogwarts. The Headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. May I emphasise that you will not be able to appraise outside the walls of this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try. I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you…"

The lesson continued, but Harry could not find it within himself to take part. He vaguely heard the instructor explain the three main parts to apparition - the three 'Ds' as he called them. Destination, determination and deliberation. But as Harry concentrated upon the space within the hoop in front of him, he found his mind wandering.

Lately he had been slacking off in lessons. It was getting increasingly hard to concentrate as he had a severe lack of sleep. The fact that Malfoy was still up to something (even now, instead of concentrating on his hoop, he was whispering something to Crabbe), his lack of sleep and the visions were very much destroying his ability to stay concentrated on something.

"One." The Instructor said loudly and Harry's head shot upwards - had he just missed most of the lecture? Harry groaned inwardly - what was he supposed to do then?

"Two." The man said, his voice wavering slightly and Harry found himself wondering whether the instructor was light enough for a gust of wind to blow him right off his feet.

"THREE!"

Harry chuckled inwardly when he saw most of his fellow students spin, and fall. Malfoy fell flat on his face - that alone made his day.

"Never mind, never mind," said Twycross dryly, who did not seem to have expected anything better. "Adjust your hoops, please, and back to your original positons…"

.

That evening, once Harry had finished most of the homework he had been procrastinating for more than a week and was due tomorrow, he settled down in one of the large armchairs in front of the fireplace. Ron slumped down in the armchair in front of him and crunched into a ball so as not to be seen from behind - after all, hair was quite easy to spot.

"I'm hiding from Lavender," he murmured in a miserable tone. Harry laughed.

"Why? Does she want you to wear that _wonderful_ sweater you got for your birthday?" Harry teased. Ron had, in fact received a horrible pink sweater with _Lavender & Won-Won Forever _embroidered right in the middle. This had been a huge source of amusement for the Twins, who had followed Ron around the house attempting to impersonate (and failing) Lavender.

Ron glared at him and Harry chuckled again.

"Harry. It's _pink,_ " This set Harry off in another round of giggles. At that moment, Lavender came skipping down from the sixth year girls dorm. She spotted Harry and waved at him rather enthusiastically. Harry smiled back weakly.

"Harry! Have you seen my dear Won-Won?" She called across the large common room. Some students turned away, sniggering. Harry shrugged, glancing at Ron briefly, who huddled deeper into his armchair, so as not to be seen by Lavender.

"Um. I think he went to the Owlery." Said Harry improvising. It would take her a good twenty minutes to go there and back - assuming she didn't skip. She thanked him with a blowkiss and a smile. Then she left through the portrait.

Harry's giggles turned into full blown laughter.

"Thank you, mate."

He groaned, then reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a miniature chessboard which he enlarged with a tap of his wand.

"Fancy a game of chess?"

Harry, who had finally managed to quiet down nodded while small giggles intermittently escaped his lips.

"Black or white?"

Harry picked the black figure from one of Ron's outstretched hands.

"Black," Harry muttered. That instant, the figurine jumped out of his hand and took its place on the board. Harry chuckled - the voice activation feature had been added by Hermione who was becoming increasingly better at charms.

Ron grinned, "I love playing white. White always gets to begin first."

"Ah yes," Harry murmured, gazing at the board as Ron exclaimed 'Pawn to E4!', "White begins, black wins."

"Pawn to D6."

Seamus who had been reading the playwitch magazine in the corner raised his eyes to watch the game. It would be amusing to watch Harry lose again… then again - no one had ever won against Ron.

"Pawn to D4," Ron said slowly and his white pawn advanced forward while wringing his fist at the black pieces. Harry grinned - he would never tire of wizarding chess.

"Knight to F6." The Black Knight hopped over the other pieces, mouth open, imitating a war cry.

"Knight to C3." Ron mirrored Harry's action.

"Pawn to G6." Harry leaned backwards, watching as his pawn moved to stand next to his knight. Ron glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"The Pirc defence?" The red-headed boy questioned. Harry nodded and grinned.

The game continued for quite a while - at some point Harry found himself yawning loudly. His lack of sleep and bad concentration led to him losing the game which was disappointing as this was the longest he had managed to play against Ron.

"Checkmate!" Ron exclaimed finally, pinning him down with his only remaining pieces - a rook, a queen and his king. Harry sighed as he watched his black king drop to his knees and strangle himself.

Seamus, who had fallen asleep long ago jerked upwards. The magazine fell to the floor revealing the contents - two topless women drinking butterbeer. Seamus blushed, grabbed his magazine and rushed up the stairs.

.

 _Harry found himself oddly excited to watch the next memory. After all… he now knew that this was THE Emrys. This was Merlin. The only thing that continued to irk him was why_ he _was experiencing these memories. Why did_ he _see them?_

 _Shaking his head to clear his mind, Harry looked around and was surprised to find that he wasn't experiencing a memory from within the walls of Camelot. Indeed not - he was in a forest. The ground was covered with dirt and leaves, leading him to believe that it was Autumn. Harry could barely see the sun - the leaves were so dense!_

 _However, patterns of light could be seen on the ground, dancing as the trees waved back and forth._

 _"_ _Emrys!" Shouted a voice and Harry spun, trying to find the source. It was a fruitless search as it seemed to have come from all around him. Suddenly a figure appeared out of nowhere, eyes flashing gold. Harry raised his eyebrows - concealment charm?_

 _Emrys, or rather, Merlin looked older than he had in previous memories. He seemed to be in his mid or early thirties. His angular face was adorned by a thick, dark beard which was trimmed to precision. His hair was as uncontrollable as ever and longer than Harry had ever seen it._

 _"_ _Galatea! Only the Druids call me that. My name is Merlin."_

 _Harry shuddered slightly, that was proof if he ever saw it._

 _A woman emerged from behind a tree, dressed in dark green robes and carrying a staff. She chuckled merrily, yet there was a sort of seriousness in her eyes that put Harry on edge. She was older than Merlin, her hair had greyed and wrinkles dominated her face._

 _"_ _Emrys, need I remind you that I am also a Druid?"_

 _Merlin sighed in defeat and fell in step with her. They trudged through the forest with determined countenances as though very sure where they were going. Harry trailed behind, staring around in amazement at the ancient forest._

 _They finally arrived at a large tree, under which, there was a large hole. Harry raised his eyebrows and followed the pair in._

 _Inside, it looked like a magically enlarged tent. In the middle, there was a round fireplace with a kettle standing on a metal platform, around it Galatea had arranged several tables, two of which had small, individual fires and a cauldron._

 _Harry stared in bemusement as Galatea started giving a potions lesson to Merlin. The great Merlin receiving lessons from a Druid! Chuckling, Harry leaned forward, trying to see what they were doing._

 _"…_ _Emrys. What does my tome say? How should the Moonseed be cut?"_

 _Merlin consulted the tome, "Uhm. Diced. It should be diced."_

 _"_ _And what are you doing?"_

 _"_ _Oh. Uh. Chopping. Sorry." Harry grinned, he wasn't the only one who was crap at potions._

 _There was a brief pause, while Merlin continued brewing, chopping, cutting or stirring. Galatea watched him with her beady eyes, assessing him as if for an examination and Harry found himself to be slightly nervous. He hoped Merlin would get the potion right._

 _"_ _No. No. No!" Galatea cried suddenly, eyes widening in shock and perhaps a little fright. "Never. Never. Ever just_ dump _ingredients into a cauldron." Merlin blushed and started to gently put slices of a white root into the potion. Galatea glowered at him and Harry was suddenly struck by how different a person Galatea was when teaching._

 _"_ _Also - crush the Sopophorous Bean rather than cutting, it releases more juice."_

 _Harry giggled at the way Merlin ducked his face and obeyed her._

 _Almost an hour later (after a while, Harry had wandered off, staring at the different things cluttering Galatea's magically enlarged hole under the tree), Galatea announced that the potion was ready and that the next and last potion they would be brewing would be an antidote for a poison._

 _She had mentioned that one of her fellow Druids - a chap named Golpalott - had recently created three rules for potion-making which most of the Druid community now followed._

 _"_ _Golpalott's Third Law is a law for making_ _antidotes_ _, which says that the antidote for a blended poison — that is, a poison created by mixing several other poisons together — cannot simply be created by finding the antidotes to each separate poison in the blended whole and mixing them together. Instead, the potionmaker must find that single ingredient which, when added to the blended antidotes, transforms them near-_ _alchemically_ _into a combined whole which will counteract the entire blended poison. Simply put, according to this law, a true antidote to a blended poison is more than the sum of its parts." Galatea said quickly, so rapidly that Harry barely understood what she was saying. *_ ** _1_**

 _Merlin looked almost as confused as Harry. He had raised his eyebrows and was staring at her with a look that said 'Are you serious'. Galatea was very serious. In fact, she was so serious, that she took another vial, poured half the dark, dark green blended poison into it, and proceeded to drink it._

 _"_ _You have half an hour before I die," she rasped out. Galatea smiled challengingly at Merlin and let herself drop to the ground. Both Harry and Merlin stared at her disbelievingly for a few moments, then Merlin gathered his wits and took hold of the flask with the other half of the poison. He sniffed it, put a piece of parchment (which turned green, then black and dissolved), and then poured it into a clean, empty cauldron._

 _"_ _Wiggenweld poison," he whispered as he gazed into the cauldron. Merlin swallowed, obviously nervous - then started to make the antidote. Harry stared at his every move, wondering what was going to happen. Was he going to make it? Or was Galatea going to die? Oh, he hoped Merlin stayed concentrated?_

 _Glancing at her for a moment, Harry saw that she had started convulsing and he gulped. Over twenty minutes had already passed and Merlin was still furiously pouring ingredients into the cauldron._

 _Harry stared as Merlin diced the Fluxweed. When Hermione had been making the polyjuice potion, she had chopped it - he remembered that vividly because she had lectured him and Ron about the proper way to cut Fluxweed. Either Merlin was making a terrible mistake, or he was being inventive like the Half-Blood Prince._

 _However, all his concerns were washed away, as the angry red of the potion turned into a translucent water-like liquid. Harry let out a breath of relief. It seemed Merlin had succeeded._

 _Said boy let out a jubilant cry and rushed towards his fallen teacher (who was still convulsing) and tipped the vial back, massaging her throat to make the liquid go down better._

 _Merlin and Harry stared at her for the next five minutes, unsure. Then suddenly, she took a gurgling breath and her eyes fluttered open. She glanced around in surprise, then let out a terrible cough._

 _"_ _Too much Dandruff." She said with a grin._

 _._

The next day was a Friday. No. It was _the_ Friday. This Friday, he would go up to Dumbledore's office at eight for their third lesson. First, however, Harry would have to suffer through two hours of potions. The fact that the teacher had changed, hadn't lessened his hate for the subject.

That was why on that gloomy, britishly-rainy day, he made his way down to the dungeons with Ron. Hermione had left before them - she and ron had had a row about Lavender a few days ago and were now somewhat angry with each other.

"I'm not sure how I got an Exceeds Expectations in Potions." Ron said once they had sat down. Harry shrugged and was about to reply when Slughorn started to call for silence.

"Settle down, settle down, please! Quickly, now, lots of work to get though this afternoon! Golpalott's Third Law… who can tell me what it is?" Almost instantly Hermione raised her hand. Harry's eyes widened - wasn't this what Merlin had covered with Galatea in their last lesson? Slughorn was gazing around the classroom, disappointment clear in his face when he saw that no one other than Hermione had raised their hands.

Then timidly, Harry raised his hand.

"Well of course - Harry!"

"Um," he paused when he saw Hermione staring at him, surprised. "Um. It's a law which declares that if… uh… one wants to make an antidote to a blended poison - a poison with more than two poisons mixed together - one must make an antidote… for the mixture and not find an antidote for each of the poisons _in_ the blended poison…" He trailed off somewhat lamely but Slughorn didn't seem to notice. He grinned joyfully and nodded enthusiastically.

"Precisely! Ten points for Gryffindor!"

Harry tuned Slughorn out when he saw Hermione staring at him, her mouth slightly ajar.

"Did the Half-Blood Prince teach you that?" She said a little scathingly. Harry frowned at her.

"I have brains too!" He said indignantly. Hermione, used to being the best in the class, scoffed. Harry rolled his eyes - obviously, she was feeling threatened.

Ron was similarly staring him, his mouth agape.

"What?" Harry said indignantly. Why did everyone think that he was too stupid for potions? He had received an _Exceeds Expectations_ \- had he not? Ron shrugged and continued doodling over his textbook.

"…And so," finished Slughorn, "I want each of you to come and take one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don't forget your protective gloves!"

Hermione had left her stool and was halfway towards Slughorn's desk before the rest of the class had realised it was time to move, and by the time Harry, Ron and Ernie returned to the table, she had already tipped the contents of her phial into her cauldron and was kindling a fire underneath it.

"It's a shame that the Prince won't be able to help you much with this, Harry," she said brightly as she straightened up. "No shortcuts or cheats this time!"

Harry sighed - sometimes she could be too competitive. Harry stared at his poison and blinked when he saw it was a dark green colour. Hadn't Merlin's poison been exactly like this? Uncorking it, Harry dropped a piece of parchment into it and was elated to see that it turned green, then black. It was _exactly_ the same poison Merlin had had to find a remedy for!

Grinning, Harry got to work.

.

"I don't get it." Hermione said shrewdly after she had swallowed a mouthful of pumpkin juice. "How did you know it was the Wiggenweld poison?! How did you know how to do the antidote?"

Harry shrugged, enjoying his triumph in potions. Granted he'd been good all year, but up until now he had been cheating… this wasn't cheating, was it? He had seen Merlin's memory. It wasn't really cheating.

"I just… studied."

Harry's appetite was gone in anticipation for the lesson with Dumbledore that he was going to have that night. He was a bit anxious. Before the holidays, Dumbledore had requested Harry to get Slughorn's real memory of his meeting with Tom Riddle. Harry hadn't really done that and he only had one hour left till his lesson at eight.

Glancing up at the Head Table, Harry noticed that Slughorn and Snape weren't there. Harry wrinkled his nose, hopefully Snape wasn't in the dungeons with Slughorn - he really needed that memory before the lesson.

"-wonder what the NEWTS exam for potions might be like," Hermione finished. Harry shrugged and threw his left leg over the bench - then his right.

"Right," he said, stretching, "I have to speak with Slughorn before my lesson with Dumbles tonight."

Ron nearly chocked on his food at Harry's nickname for the Headmaster. Glancing at the Top Table again, Harry noted that the Headmaster was staring at him with unblinking, twinkling eyes. Had the man put an eavesdropping charm on them?

"Dumbles." Ron gasped out, grinning. Hermione shook her head disapprovingly but the corners of her mouth had tilted upwards.

"I'll see you tonight." Harry said with a smile, and left for the Dungeons.

The door to the Potions Classroom P1 was open, and Harry glanced inside, only to see Slughorn grading papers at the desk at the front.

"Harry!" He exclaimed, beaming, when he caught sight of said boy. "What a pleasure, what a pleasure. Come in my boy!" Harry entered the room hesitantly. He gently stepped around a puddle of acid.

"Professor…" Harry started haltingly. "Ehm… I've been trying to get know Voldemort more intimately," he mentally slapped his forehead for his wording. Slughorn didn't say anything, but his name grew a bit wary. "And well, Dumbledore's been helping me. But you see… we hit a wall when we watched the memory about Horcruxes." 580

Slughorn's face grew pale, and he stared at Harry in the kind of way one stares at a terrifying enemy. Harry supposed that was the way he had stared at Snape as a little child.

"Yes, of course," said Slughorn quietly, dabbing at his white and suddenly sweaty face. "Of course… well, if you've seen that memory, Harry, you'll know that I don't know anything - _anything_ \- about Horcruxes."

Harry gulped nervously and saw suddenly that Slughorn had stood up and was chucking papers into his dragonskin briefcase.

"Professor," he said suddenly, as if some exterior force was controlling his mouth. It seemed to be so, for his voice was grave, serious and full of power. Slughorn seemed to note the change too, because his head snapped up, and he stared at Harry, eyes wide in something akin to fear and awe.

"Professor," Harry repeated a little less forcefully, "This might be out last chance. This might be the key to defeating Voldemort…" He trailed off and saw suddenly that Slughorn was frozen in indecision. Time for some Slytherin tactics.

"You liked my mother, didn't you?" Harry asked gently, going completely off topic.

"Yes, yes, very much." Slughorn said quietly and seeing Harry's encouraging expression, he continued. "Brilliant at Potions and a very kind soul. It's a shame…" He trailed off and his eyes landed on Harry's scar, which Harry had deliberately made so easy to see.

"Please help her son." He said quietly. "Once we have that memory - well… its the key to the whole problem."

Slughorn stared at him shrewdly before he closed his eyes as if to meditate. He then pulled out his wand and a small potions vial. Then slowly, he pulled his wand away from his temple and dropped the memory into the phial.

He passed it to Harry who smiled in thank you and stuffed it into his school bag which he still hadn't brought up to his dorm. As he was leaving the room, Slughorn stopped him with a tired, quiet shout.

"Harry!" Said boy turned around slowly and found that Slughorn was back at his desk, grading papers. He smiled a little warily. "You might be in Gryffindor, but you're also a Slytherin."


	3. Chapter 3

His meeting with Dumbledore had been surprisingly uneventful… well other than the fact that he had finally learned what Horcruxes were and that Tom Riddle's Diary and the Ring had already been destroyed. That left five Horcruxes.

However, Dumbledore _had_ hinted that for their next lesson, they would be doing something else. Well, they would still look at memories… but they would also be doing something else. This left Harry oddly excited and he sincerely hoped that Dumbledore would finally see it important to teach him other things… such as duelling.

They had started duelling in Defence Against the Dark Arts but his favourite subject wasn't so brilliant when the teacher teaching it absolutely hated him - and those feelings were reciprocated.

So far, he'd duelled both Hermione and Ron and had won more often then not - but magic was starting to fail him. He was so completely exhausted that people had started to notice. Hermione remarked upon it daily and even Ron had told him to go to the infirmary. During their last lesson (which had been almost three weeks ago), Dumbledore had asked Harry whether everything was alright.

Harry had naturally replied that everything was peachy.

January rolled into February and suddenly Harry found himself under the pressure of being a good captain to his Quidditch team. Quidditch season had just begun, and while teams had been chosen in October, and one game between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had been played, the season properly began in February, when it wasn't as cold.

Cormac McLaggen was an admittedly good Quidditch player, but his cocky attitude and arrogance made Harry dislike him. And it was for that precise reason that Harry had started avoiding him. That boy had started searching Harry in the hallways between classes, during lunch - even in the Owlery! - all because he wanted a spot on the team. A spot which Ron had ' _rightfully'_ received during the tryouts.

And no matter how many times Harry had told him to _piss off,_ the boy kept coming back. He even came to the training sessions!

"Harry, come on! We'll be late!" Ron exclaimed, tugging on his cloak. Harry stumbled along - oh… Snape wasn't going to be happy at their tardiness.

As they charged into the classroom, Harry's eyes instantly found the mechanical clock hanging behind the teacher's desk, only to find that they were five minutes late. Harry's gaze then fell to the man standing directly under the clock.

"Ten points from Gryffindor…" Snape said nastily, a smirk playing around his lips. Ron opened his mouth to protest.

"…From each of you." Snape allowed himself another smirk, before his gaze hardened. "Sit down."

Harry, who had been clutching his messenger bag to his chest while running, let it drop on the desk he shared with Ron. Hermione, who was only a desk away and was sitting with a very unhappy Lavender, shot them a disapproving glance.

"Turn to page 453. And read the first three pages on the best silent curses for duelling. I do hope," the tone of his voice said otherwise, "That you have been practicing silent casting. From now on, duels shall only be preformed with silently casted spells."

Most of the class groaned as one. Hermione straightened in her chair - she had become quite proficient. Harry, who had been slowly learning snippets of things from his visions, now had a vague idea on how to do it best.

"Begin." His voice was quiet, but demanding and almost instantly everyone's heads turned down to their open textbooks. Harry rolled his eyes and turned them down to his text, which he had already read and reread at the beginning of the year. DADA, was after all, his favourite subject.

Ten minutes later, the class had arranged themselves into two loose rows to practice silent casting while duelling. Harry ended up standing across Hermione. Soon, spells were flying back and forth. Surprisingly, many students had managed to get a hang of it but there was still a lot of whispering going on.

Hermione and Harry were trading spells back and forth at a lazy pace. Most teachers would have given them at least twenty points at their ability to consistently cast so many spells silently and in succession. Half the lesson had gone by, when Harry felt a huge wave of exhaustion and yawned. It was quite unlucky that at that very moment, the overgrown bat had been passing them.

Snape glowered at him and Harry instantly knew something was going to happen to him. Hermione bit her lip nervously.

"Evidently, Granger isn't much of a challenge for you, Potter." He said it in a way that Harry knew it wasn't a compliment - for either Hermione or him.

"Mister Malfoy!" The blonde boy at the other end of the classroom looked up and flicked his wrist casually. Almost instantly, Crabbe was thrown to the floor, petrified. Malfoy sauntered over to their end, his lips turned up in a cocky smirk.

"Yes, Professor Snape?" Snape shot a glance at the petrified Crabbe and nodded.

"Ten points to Slytherin, Mister Malfoy."

"For what? For walking over?" Harry heard Ron (who was having a hard time casting silent curses at Neville) mutter. Snape evidently heard it too because his head snapped towards him.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for insulting a fellow student, Mr Weasley."

Ron turned away, frowning.

"Mister Malfoy and Potter, you will be duelling together from now on. Granger…" He looked disdainfully at Harry's friend. "You will be duelling with someone more befitting of you skill level. Mr Crabbe!" The boy who had been unpetrified by a fellow Slytherin stumbled to them. Hermione barely tired to hide her disgust.

Harry sighed. Snape was a naturally nasty person and if he wanted to belittle someone, he would humiliate them, their friends and their family.

Turning to Malfoy, Harry fell into a relaxed duelling stance. Malfoy settled for a more fancy, tournament-like stance which made him look like a peacock trying to be noticed. Harry smirked and when he saw that Snape wasn't around, said: "Why, Malfoy!" As if he had only just noticed him, "Are you trying to impress your dear Pansy?"

Pansy Parkinson who was duelling Daphne Greengrass heard the comment and blushed slightly, before losing her concentration and toppling down when she got hit by a stunning curse.

Malfoy glared at him and threw the first spell. As the red spell - which Harry recognised as a stunner - raced towards him, Harry suddenly thought that apparition could be convenient in a situation like this.

Instead, he spun out of the way, pivoted and made a complicated motion with his wrist. It was only an Aqua Eructo charm, but the complicated motion would disarm Malfoy.

It did.

A confused expression appeared on his face, before he was covered with a jet of water. With a flick of his wrist, a shield appeared between them. Harry cancelled the spell, and recognising the spell as a simple protego, Harry flicked his wand again, and stopped himself from shouting avis. Instead, he focused on his _desire_ to conjur birds. He had learned from Merlin that desire and will were much more effective than saying the spell and doing the wand movement.

A flock of birds streamed out of his wand and Harry did the wand movement for the Oppugno jinx. Almost instantly, the flock of birds shot at Malfoy effectively cutting through the shield. Protego was a shelld designed only for magical attacks.

Malfoy hurriedly raised a wall of marble and the birds ended up breaking the skulls. He vanished the birds and waved his wand again. A blue jet of light sped to Harry.

And back and forth they went, casting spells quickly and skilfully. Harry begrudgingly admitted that Snape had been right to put them against each other. He _wanted_ to win against Malfoy. He _needed_ to.

They were so caught up in their duel that they didn't notice how most of the class had turned to stare at the obviously most skilled duellers of said class. Seamus and Dean were openly staring at them. Apart from the two duellers, the only movement to be seen seemed to be the moving eyes that watched spells going back and forth so quickly that it was hard to see who had really cast which spell.

The duel finally ended when Harry send a chain of five spells, racing after one another, charged with so much power, that after the third, Malfoy's shield collapsed and he was hit by the remaining two spells. A stunner and a _petrificus totalus._ It was as if something had taken over his body and he could no long control it. Spells just seemed to suddenly appear in his mind and his wrist did the movements. He was like a possessed man.

Harry stood over Malfoy, smirking at his victory. Malfoy had gotten better during the break. Bellatrix - who had recently been broken out of Azkaban - had probably been teaching him. Harry watched impassively as the nearest Slytherin cast a reviving spell on Malfoy.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Potter," Snape finally said snidely, breaking the silence. "For most obviously cheating. I said only curses. _Avis_ is a conjuration and _oppugno_ is a jinx."

He paused for a moment, no doubt enjoying the sight of a fuming Harry. "Homework: eleven inch essay on silent casting. Disadvantages and advantages."

The bell rang and Harry wasted no time in leaving as quickly as possible. Every minute with the bastard was another minute of wasted life.

.

February rolled into March with a change in weather. The snow disappeared, and the Giant Lake melted once more. It became even windier and rainier and to general indignation, a sign went up on all common room noticeboards that the next trip into Hogsmeade had been cancelled. Ron was furious.

"It was on my birthday!" He said, "I was looking forward to that!"

"Not a big surprise, though, is it?" Harry had murmured, "Not after what happened to Katie."

After touching that cursed necklace on the way to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade, Katie had been so severely injured that she had been transported to St. Mungo's.

"But now all I've got to look forward to is stupid apparition!" Said Ron, "Big birthday treat."

That night (the night before Ron's birthday) after dinner, Hermione finally cornered Harry. They had been on their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, when Ron, who was still grumpy about the cancelled Hogsmeade trip and was seeking for something to up his spirits, had decided to join Seamus and Dean who were having a boisterous conversation about Quidditch.

Hermione and Harry were left alone, standing near the staircase leading to the fourth floor. Harry sighed in a mockingly-exasperated way as he stared after Ron, then shaking his head said, "They grow up so fast, don't they?"

Hermione cracked a smile, but it seemed a little fake. Her eyes were wide open and she was staring at Harry in concern. The boy in question could see himself reflected in her eyes - and he admitted (though not aloud) that there _was_ a source for concern. After two months of two or three proper hours of sleep a night, he looked like a nightmare.

His hair was bleak and his skin sickly pale. His eyes were tired and defeated and the dark bags under said emerald eyes only added onto that. He slouched, and dragged his feet behind him. He was constantly lethargic and staying awake in class had become a daily struggle.

"Harry-" She started in an uncertain voice.

"Yeah, I know. I look like shit."

"We're all worried about you." She continued as if Harry had never interrupted her, "You barely eat, you wake up in the mornings looking more tired than the night before, you fall asleep everywhere - even during lessons!"

Harry sighed in response. She took that as a sign that she could continue.

"Harry, you need help," she placed an arm on his shoulder. "Is it V-Voldemort?"

"No… I stopped seeing visions from him in the summer when he presumably found out about the connection. He's been using Occlumency against me."

Hermione bit her lip, "Nightmares?" Harry knew she was referring to Sirius and he shook his head.

"No… I've been uh… having visions."

Her bemusement was clear. "B-but you just said-"

He shook his head, "No. Not from _him._ " Hermione looked, if possible, even more confused. He tried to elaborate.

"I don't know…" He trailed off a portrait, hanging above Hermione's head caught his eye. It was a picture of a man - no scratch that - _very old_ man. He stood motionless, but his eyebrow was raised and he was staring at harry quite intensely. His long beard reached his belt, and was tucked in so that it didn't flap around in the wind. His snowy white hair reached his shoulders, framing his angular, yet quite wrinkled features.

His eyes were kind and - Harry gasped for he knew those eyes. He knew those angular features. And he most definitively knew that raised eyebrow.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." He uttered quietly. Merlin's eyes twinkled as he stared back down. Hermione, having heard his comment, followed his stare. She frowned.

"Why - who is that?"

"Uhm. No one. I saw that picture in a textbook. Look, just come with me."

He grabbed the sleeve of her cloak and pulled her into a nearby, empty classroom. Then, with a flick of his wand, the lights turned on. He leaned against a desk and took a deep breath as he tried to gather his wits.

"Look. Hermione, I've been having visions. Not from Voldemort…" He paused and stared at her quite seriously, "I think I'm experiencing Merlin's memories."

Hermione blinked in surprise and then started giggling. Her tense shoulders relaxed somewhat.

"Oh, Merlin! Harry, I thought you were going to say you were having some sort of terrible visions of the war."

Harry stared back. Did she think it was all a joke? Did she think he had made it all up? Seeing his serious expression, she calmed herself.

"How do you know it's him?"

"Maybe because people call him Merlin - and the Druids call him Emrys?" Harry said dryly. Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"You're serious about this?"

Harry started massaging the bridge of his nose, "Yeah. I've been seeing these visions since I hit my head at the Burrow… Hermione…" He hesitated and then continued in a slightly broken voice, "I think I'm going mad."

Hermione put a hand on his in a comforting manner.

"We'll figure it out, yeah? I don't doubt the library has _something_ on the topic."

Harry cracked a smile, stood up, opened the door and allowed Hermione to walk out first. Frankly, it was amazing that she hadn't instantly told him to go to Dumbledore.

"Although…" She contemplated, "You _should_ probably go to Dumbledore too…"

Harry's laughter - something that hadn't been heard in Hogwarts for a while - reverberated down the hall.

.

It was Ron's birthday and Harry was spending it in the library. He felt slightly guilty about it - but then again, Lavender had been stuck at his side all day making it impossible for either Hermione or Harry to speak to Ron. _And_ they seemed to be snogging the entire time.

Harry sighed as he closed yet another dusty tome, he yawned and decided that was enough for the night. He would return tomorrow to find more information about the visions and to see whether someone else had ever experienced something similar.

"You should be going to sleep," Said Termeritus Shanks from his portrait hanging near the study area. He loved giving students advice. The only other student - a Hufflepuff - in the library scoffed and went back to studying. Harry sighed and waved his wand. Almost instantly, all of the books he had been reading flew back to their correct places - one of them ( _A guide to maladies of the Mind)_ almost beheaded him.

Harry was on his way back to the Gryffindor Tower when he heard a loud cough. It was the type of cough that told you a person was demanding their attention, so naturally, Harry raised his head to find the portrait that was commanding his attention.

It was Merlin. The man was smiling at him kindly - a smile which Harry easily recognised.

"You seem quite set on ignoring me."

"Well you seem quite set on plaguing me during my sleep," Harry said dryly. Merlin chuckled.

"You're at that stage, then?" He uttered almost to himself. Harry blinked.

"What stage - wait how do you know what's happening to me?"

"Well…" Merlin chuckled. Harry found that this older version of the man was quite infuriating. "Classrooms have portraits and we painted folk, can travel between them."

Harry almost banged his head against the wall. Now Dumbledore and the rest of the staff and all of the portraits were going to know. Seeing his mortified expression Merlin gave him a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, I've already given out word to the portraits to not give out any information regarding you."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "You can do that? Why do the portraits listen to _you_?"

"Well, I'm Merlin." Merlin said chuckling. Harry wrinkled his nose, the man had become a little arrogant over the years.

"Thank you, I suppose." Harry said hesitantly. He knew that the portraits were like spies in a way. It was relieving to find that one of them was on his side.

"You're welcome." He paused, "Now, regarding your other question-" Seeing Harry's blank face, he reiterated. "The stages-"

"Yeah - what are they? What do you mean by stages?"

"Well, there are certain stages to rebirth."

"To what?" Harry said blinking. Had Merlin just said _rebirth_?

"Rebirth." Merlin repeated, eyes glinting in the relative gloominess of the hallway.

"You mean…" Harry started but couldn't finish the sentence. He had no doubt in what Merlin was implying… But it couldn't be… could it? He couldn't be _Merlin…_ Not him.

"Yes, Harry. That is exactly what I mean." His countenance and voice were both very serious. Harry gulped.

"But I can't be… Not me-"

"Surely you have noticed the increase in power? The knowledge that just seems to jump to your mind? The memories? Are they not proof enough?"

Harry reeled back, as if he had been hit. Instead he hit the wall and slid down to a crouched position. He didn't want to admit it - but he had seen an increase in power. His spells came more naturally to him, spells and potion equations seemed to spill out of his mouth before he had realised what had happened…

He stood up warily. He needed to go. He didn't want to hear this.

"That's just stage one. Once you accept who you are, you will remember _everything._ " Harry started running.

"It'll just get worse the longer you deny it!" Merlin shouted as Harry ran.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time Harry had managed to calm down, night had fallen and the stars were shining brightly. The castle doors were already closed, leading Harry to believe that it was already past ten, so instead, he made his way to the Whomping Willow. Freezing it with a spell that suddenly came to mind but couldn't remember learning, Harry slipped into the hole and took the passage on the left - the one leading to the castle.

By the time he reached the common room, it was already past eleven but many people were still lazing about. They had all weekend to sleep in. Neither Ron nor Hermione were to be seen so Harry made his way up to his dorm, ignoring Parvarti Patil and Seamus Finnegan who were singing drunken ballads.

He found the dorm empty, save for Ron who was laying spread-eagled on his bed, covered with presents he had received for his birthday. He was staring up at the ceiling of his four poster bed with a blissful expression and glancing at the same spot, Harry noticed a crudely drawn picture of a blonde girl in Gryffindor robes, tacked onto the ceiling.

Harry sniggered at Ron, and suddenly felt disappointed that he didn't have a camera.

Taking off his robe, Harry changed into a pair of large jogging trousers and a t-shirt. He heard a happy giggle and turned back to Ron.

"Ehm… Ron, are you alright?"

The redheaded boy snorted and then continued giggling.

"She's sooo prrrrety," He slurred, rolling the 'r'. Harry raised an eyebrow - Ron drunk? The boy could drink a barrel of Firewhiskey and not get drunk.

"Who's pretty?" Said Harry, humouring him.

"You _know_ who," Ron said sharply, as if insulted that Harry didn't know the mystery person. For one horrified moment, Harry thought he meant Voldemort.

"Uhm… Hermione?"

"No, silly - Romilda Vane!" He giggled again. Harry blinked. Had Ron ingested a love potion or something? Then suddenly, Harry's eyes fell on the carton with the cauldron chocolate cakes that Romilda Vane had gifted him for Valentine's day.

"Oh, shit."

"How about we go get her?" Ron instantly sat up which resulted him in hitting his head rather harshly on one of the posts of his four poster head.

"Yes! Then I can tell her how much I looooovre her!"

Harry helped him up and patted him on the back. "Yes, we can invite her to Hogsmeade. Do you think she would like that?"

Ron giggled again and spun happily, imitating a ballerina. It took them a while to get to Slughorn's office - for that was who Harry was trying to get Ron to. They had to stop every few minutes so that Ron could recite and practice a sonnet for her. Eventually he settled for singing a song to her and spent the remaining few minutes of their trip singing love songs by the Weird Sisters.

"Yes?" Slughorn said as he opened the door after Harry had knocked on it rather harshly. The potions master examined Harry and Ron (who was staring dreamily into the distance and murmuring something about love) critically.

"Professor, I'm really sorry to disturb you so late, but Ron's swallowed cauldron cakes laced with a love potion… could you make an antidote - I'm afraid it's not the same as making an antidote in class… I just don't want to harm my friend. And it's his birthday…" Slughorn scrutinised him as if wondering whether Harry was being sincere.

"Hairy!" Harry turned to Ron - had he just said his name with an american accent? "I _need_ to see her! She is my life, my desire, my love!"

Slughorn turned to Ron and then back at Harry, then he swung the door open. His professional curiosity was now getting the better of him.

"Very well.. Come on in. I'll whip up something. Do you know whether the potion was within date?"

He addressed the question at Harry as Ron was in no position to answer. He however heard the word 'date'. "Ooooh yes! I should take her out on a date! Do you think she'd like that, Hairy?"

Harry grinned in amusement and turned to Slughorn.

"Potions strengthen the longer they are kept right?"

Slughorn chuckled, "Yes, they do. Five points to Gryffindor!"

"Well… no, I think the cauldron cakes are about a month old."

"Ah, well, that certainly explains your friends extreme state."

Harry and Ron waited while Slughorn threw different ingredients to a cauldron with simmering water. It was fascinating to watch - perhaps not as fascinating as Galatea's lessons with Merlin but- Harry forced his mind to think about something else. He didn't want to think about that _now._

"All done!" Slughorn exclaimed after a quarter of an hour. "Here you are, Ralph!"

"It's Ron, Ron Weasley. That's his name." Harry said with a frown. Slughorn didn't know his name yet?

"Will this make her love me?" He said with a dreamy voice - one usually associated with Trelawney.

"Yes - she will forever sing your praises," Slughorn said smoothly. Harry eyed him - perhaps Slughorn was more Slytherin than he appeared to be.

"Drink up!" Slughorn said, urging him on. Ron grabbed the vial a little clumsily and drowned the contents. Almost instantly, his countenance became sour.

"Oh, Merlin's baggy y-fronts!" Harry and Slughorn both shot him disapproving glances as his choice of words. Harry mainly because he now felt a vague, budding loyalty to Merlin. "Did I really do all that?" The question wasn't really directed at anyone but Harry laughed and nodded anyway. He patted Ron's shoulder, happy to have the normal him back.

"Thank you very much professor Slughorn."

"Not to mention, not to mention, my dear boy," said Slughorn, waving his hand. Ron slumped into a nearby armchair.

"A pick-me-up - that's what he needs!" Slughorn said, stumbling over to his liquor cabinet. He pulled out a few bottles, frowning at each of them until he he pulled a bottle filled with amber liquid.

"Ah! Perfect… meant to give that to Dumbledore for Christmas…" He shrugged, "…Oh well, he can't miss what he never had. Besides, we _do_ need to celebrate… Mr Weasley's birthday! Seventeen! I remember when I turned seventeen…"

Slughorn rambled off and Harry tuned him out, like he generally did during class. Nevertheless, he accepted a tumbler with the amber liquid. It smelt odd… and Harry remembered smelling that somewhere - that scent of… asphodel leaf? He remembered smelling it in one of Merlin's potions. Galagea had forced Merlin to memorise the smell. Asphodel leaf was a very useful potions ingredient but if used incorrectly, it could be very, very poisonous.

Eyes widening in alarm, Harry's hand shot forwards and knocked Ron's tumbler out of his hands. Slughorn let out a shout of surprise.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ignoring his friend, Harry shoved Slughorn's glass to his nose.

"Asphodel leaf." Harry murmured to the potions master. Said man sniffed his drink before his eyes widened.

"Merlin! It wasn't- I didn't- I didn't poison it!" Slughorn seemed flabbergasted as he stared down at his drink. Harry put a placating hand on his shoulder.

"I know you didn't mean to poison us, sir-"

"Poison? What? What are you talking about Harry?" Asked Ron in a high-pitched voice.

"The leaves of the aconite plant are poisonous. The root on the other hand, can be used in a number of different potions; for example the Wolfsbane potion." Slughorn said in a quiet voice as he swirled the liquid in his tumbler. "I wonder who-"

"The question at the moment is not who poisoned it, but who was the intended target." Harry said slowly. Slughorn paled suddenly.

"I was supposed to give it to Dumbledore-"

"Supposed? Did someone tell you to give it to him?" Harry asked sharply. Slughorn threw his hands in the air.

"No- I don't know-I-I-I think. Merlin I think I was put under the imperius," Slughorn managed to stutter out. Harry stared at him with narrowed eyes, was Slughorn capable of murder? No, no he wasn't. Someone had imperiused him.

"Right then. I shall go inform Professor Dumbledore about this. I was intending to talk to him anyway." Harry said slowly. Slughorn blanched.

"B-but - I didn't slip anything into the drink."

Harry exhaled, annoyed. "Yes, Professor. I know. I still need to inform him that someone is trying to murder him."

Slughorn whimpered quietly at the word 'murder'.

Turning to Ron, Harry raised an eyebrow, "Are you alright, Ron?" The boy nodded weakly, gazing at the spilled drink unblinkingly. "Right. Go back to the common room. Don't stay up."

.

"Someone's trying to kill you, professor." Harry said bluntly, placing the bottle of mead on Dumbledore's desk. Oddly, the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office had sprung aside the moment it had seen Harry storming to the office. Evidently, Dumbledore had been alerted of an intruder because the moment Harry had entered his office, the man himself had stepped through another door wearing his night clothes.

If it had been any other time, Harry would have laughed at the ridiculous night clothes that the Headmaster wore (a blue robe with dancing lemon drops and a matching nightcap).

Dumbledore cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses and sat down at his desk. Harry slumped down in one of the hard chairs across from the Headmaster.

"I am very well aware of the fact, Harry," Dumbledore said in an uncharacteristically serious voice.

"I think it's Malfoy." Dumbledore leaned back into his armchair and regarded harry seriously over his half-moon glasses. "I think Voldemort has ordered him to murder you, professor. It is the only explanation. Lucius Malfoy was broken out of Azkaban earlier this year and Voldemort probably wants Draco Malfoy to prove himself," Harry pressed on. "And Snape's-"

" _Professor_ Snape, Harry."

"Yes sir. I think _Professor_ Snape is helping him."

"Thank you for telling me this, Harry, but I suggest that you put it out of your mind. I do not think that it is of great importance."

"Not of great importance?" repeated Harry incredulously. Was the man aware that his blasé reaction to the dangers would lead to more students falling into danger. "Ron was almost poisoned today. If it were not for the fact that Professor Slughorn and I noticed that there was a faint smell of asphodel leaf in the mead, Ron would now be dead. Katie Bell almost died and had to be transferred to St Mungo's for treatment. The person trying to kill you, professor, doesn't care how many other casualties there are. You might think you are all-powerful and they won't get you - but this attitude is endangering the students." Harry almost gasped in horror as the last word fell out of his mouth - it was as though someone was manipulating his mouth. He hadn't intended to say that.

Harry's gaze fell down onto the desk and he winced, wondering what punishment he would receive for his blatant disrespect. He was therefore surprised when he heard a warm chuckle (and a few sniggers from the portraits of past Headmasters who had all been obviously pretending to sleep).

"My dear boy…" Dumbledore said as his chuckle died down and he became serious again. Harry raised his eyes briefly and made eye-contact. He looked apologetic. "I apologise… I do in fact know that the perpetrator is Draco Malfoy but I suspect that there is another reason - another mission that Voldemort has given him."

Harry blinked in surprise, "You're waiting for him to make his move? You want him to show you his - Voldemort's - real motive?"

Dumbledore nodded. Harry leaned back into his uncomfortable chair and rushed a hand through his already messy hair.

"Very well. I apologise for my intrusion and disruption of your sleep." Harry said, standing up. "Goodnight, Professor." Harry said respectfully.

"Goodnight, my dear boy. I shall send you a missive in the next few days with the date for our next lesson. Bring a wand with you."

.

 _Merlin was duelling with another woman. He looked older now; gone was the baby fat and the innocence he had carried long into his adulthood. Instead, Harry could now see the brave and cunning man that he was. He was still lithe and tall, but there was a certain way in which he held himself; it demanded respect. Merlin wasn't as old as the portrait Harry had met - not by a long shot - but he certainly looked like he had already lived half a century._

 _He was duelling a woman about half his age - but just as skilful. Her beautiful ruby dress fluttered in the wind and her long chestnut hair was likewise fluttering around her face, making it look as though she was surrounded by a halo. Her facial features were pointy and her eyes were sharp and cold._

 _As she spun to avoid a nasty spell from Merlin, her profile was thrown into sharp relief and suddenly, Harry recognised her from the extensive chocolate frog collection which Ron possessed. It was Morgan Le Fay! This was the legendary duel between her and Merlin!_

 _Harry stared with wide eyes at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes. By now, Harry had started loathing Merlin. He didn't want to be him. He just wanted to be a regular wizard. He wanted to be_ just Harry. _Accepting that he was the reincarnation of Merlin would only prove that he was in fact_ more _than_ just Harry _. No matter how much Harry disliked him at the moment, he could not help but admire the display of magical prowess and skill that he was seeing._

 _It was shocking, to say the least. The speed with which they cast and blocked spells was simply mind blowing and frankly, it made Harry quite dizzy. The duel was mainly silent, but every now and then one of them would shout out a spell in some language Harry didn't understand. In first year, Hermione had forced him to learn the basics of Latin so that he understood the spells he was casting. But this… this was a completely different language._

 _Suddenly, however, his mind supplied him with the answer and he frowned. It was the Ancient Language that the druids spoke._

 _Recently, Merlin's knowledge had started to leak into his own mind, often providing Harry with answers to questions that either Hermione or a professor had set. It was both unsettling and exhilarating (to be able to answer questions that usually only Hermione could answer)._

 _Staring at the duellers, Harry suddenly realised a capital difference between the two sorcerers. Merlin was casting to capture and maim. Morgana was casting to kill. This of course made Merlin's job much harder, but Harry's respect soared as he saw that Merlin was slowly, but surely gaining the upper hand._

 _Then suddenly… Merlin threw his staff to the side (which fell through Harry and into the high grass). Harry stared, confused. How was Merlin going to duel now? Harry had seen that in the last few memories, Merlin had become increasingly more proficient at wandless magic - but duelling wandlessly?!_

 _Merlin then did exactly what Harry had thought he would do. He started casting with his hands. Harry stared, amazed as he continued to cast with the same speed as he had earlier, if not faster._

 _"_ _Oh my God," Harry whispered to himself. Merlin's movements were precise and efficient and what caught Harry's eye was how quick he was on his feet. He jumped, swirled, turned, pivoted… meanwhile Morgana only sidestepped or dodged. This revelation shocked Harry - so magical prowess and skill wasn't everything… lightness of foot and flexibility also went a long way._

 _The duel ended when Merlin managed to disarm Morgana who wasn't quite so proficient with wandless magic. She offered little resistance as he rendered her unconscious._

 _._

Portrait-Merlin was right. His condition had become worse - and the longer he denied who he was, the worse he felt. He tried to find the portrait… he even retraced his footsteps from the library, but it seemed Merlin didn't want to be found. He needed answers to his questions… but Merlin seemed to want him to figure out the answers by himself.

He was so tired nowadays, that he had started to brew energy and pepper-up potions and had started to take them regularly during the day. One when he woke up, one after lunch, and one after dinner. Harry was well aware of what was going to happen if he spent longer than three weeks doing this - he would become addicted. But he had no choice, not really. It was either drink the potions or stagger around looking like an inferi.

Hermione was still researching his condition in the library. Harry didn't have the heart to tell her that he had figured it out - or rather - that Portrait-Merlin had told him. He didn't want her to know… she would start to idolise him. And he didn't want that. He didn't want to be the boy-who-lived. He just wanted to be _just Harry._

Harry had started to beat Ron at chess. The first time that had happened - almost a week ago - he had been so shocked that he had sat staring at the board for a full thirty minutes wondering if it was luck or if he really _had_ beaten him. Most of the patrons of Gryffindor Tower had been delighted as Ron had been the undefeated champion for the last five years. It was nice to have a change. Ron was disgruntled, but tried not to show it. Harry had tried not to rub it in - he knew how much chess meant to Ron… it set him apart from his family.

Attacks were happening more often now, more and more people were disappearing… Nowadays, one of the first things Harry did when coming down to breakfast, was open the _Daily Prophet_ to the page which stated who had died or disappeared. It had become a daily ritual and he often hoped that he didn't see a name he recognised.

That morning - a sunny if cold mid-March morning - Harry had come down to breakfast slightly more refreshed than he had in a long time. The pepper up potion was marvellous!

Grabbing a discarded newspaper, Harry sat down next to Hermione.

"Good Morning, Hermione."

She glanced at him and frowned, "Are you still taking the Pepper-ups?" Harry looked away in shame. Pepper-ups were considered a weakness in the wizarding world. Much like a cannabis addiction in the mugge world.

"Uhm yeah…" When he saw that she was about to protest, he interrupted her, "Look. I feel like shit, I look like shit. They give me energy I haven't had for several months now, ok?"

"Harry… You'll become addicted to them."

Harry closed his eyes for a brief moment, "I know," he whispered, then turned his gaze at Hermione, "But if I don't take them, then I can't function. I promise that I'll stop as soon as I manage to find a way to stop the memories, yeah?"

She nodded reluctantly but glanced up at Dumbledore who was conversing joyfully with a scowling Snape. "You should still tell him, you know."

Harry sighed and said with a deciding tone that put an end to their conversation, "He already has many troubles on his plate."

He flickered through the _Daily Prophet_.

"So? Anyone we know?" Hermione finally asked. Harry skimmed through the articles.

"Yeah," he said rasining an eyebrow as one article caught his eye. "Mundungus Fletcher is in Azkaban-"

"Fletcher? What has he done now?" Ron's question revealed his arrival. He fell down ungracefully into the seat across from Harry and instantly started putting bacon and eggs onto his plate.

"Uhm…" Harry skimmed through the article again, "He was caught impersonating inferi… He was trying to rob houses by scaring people away." Harry let out a snort, "Typical."

"Harry!" Hermione admonished lightly, probably at his blasé reaction towards the whole thing. "He's going to Azkaban…" She paused and then added in a slightly lower voice, "Besides, he's an Order member."

"Harry!" Said a high pitched voice, and Harry turned his attention to an approaching Lavender. She smiled coyly at Ron and sat down next to him. She passed Harry a small scroll with Dumbledore's writing on it.

"Dumbledore saw me in the hallway - he asked me to give this to you." She said. Harry raised an eyebrow - Dumbledore was using students as owls?

"Thank you, Lavender-" But she wasn't listening. Instead she had made her way into Ron's lap and they were snogging.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for showing _intimate_ public affection." Snape's voice came as a surprise as no one had seen him stand up. He really _was_ as sneaky, overgrown bat.

Ron and Lavender broke apart, both blushing. Hermione looked smug.

* * *

 **I want to make it clear that while Harry is slowly receiving his memories from his time as Merlin, the man himself wont end up possessing him or anything. Also Dumbledore in this story is manipulative but not so inherently evil as he is often depicted in other stories.**

 **Anonymous reviews:**

 **Arcturus:** Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for making you wait such a long time... exams...**

* * *

Next week, on a particularly long Friday (they had after all had DADA and Potions on the same day), at eight pm, Harry found himself walking towards the Headmaster's office. He had just taken a pepper up potion and was sufficiently energised to have a proper, intellectual conversation with the ancient man.

This time, as he approached the gargoyle, it stood frozen on its spot and Harry briefly wondered _why_ had moved aside that one time when he'd come charging into the office. Putting it out of his mind, Harry said the password out loud. "Ice Mice."

The gargoyle seemed to glare at him for a long moment and Harry wondered whether it had a grudge against him. Eventually, the magic it was bound to, forced him to move aside. Harry smirked at it in victory, before he realised what he was doing. Then he scowled. It wasn't even a real gargoyle!

Harry climbed the spiral staircase, suddenly feeling very anxious. Dumbledore had told him to bring his wand with him. That in itself suggested they would be doing magic. And while Harry found the thought of _Dumbledore_ teaching magic to him as wonderful, he couldn't help but feel a little terrified. His magic had become rampant - it was rapidly growing both in strength and amount and recently, it had become somewhat harder to control it properly.

"Ah, good evening, my boy," Dumbledore exclaimed joyfully when Harry came in through the crack in the door. He instantly saw a scowling figure standing next to one of the chairs.

" _Professor_ Snape," Harry acknowledged, glowering at the man. The potions-master-turned-DADA-professor ignored him.

"Severus here was just telling me how much you have improved in duels." Dumbledore said with a genial smile. _Severus_ scowled.

"Potter is cheating somehow. I do not know how, Headmaster, but he is," Snape said petulantly. Harry mulled that over - could reincarnation be counted as cheating?

"Now, now, Severus, I am sure Harry has a reasonable explanation for that accusation."

Harry floundered for and answer. "Uh… I've been studying a lot."

Snape continued glaring distrustfully at him, then he turned to the Headmaster and nodded respectfully, "I assume our conversation will be continued at a later date?"

And suddenly, Harry felt like they hadn't been speaking about his sudden duelling prowess at all.

Dumbledore nodded once and was about to speak - but with a several large steps, Snape had already vanished. The old man closed his mouth and the corners of it turned downwards slightly as if unimpressed by Snape's child-like attitude. He turned to Harry.

"You are looking much better, my boy."

Harry gulped… Yeah, well… Pepper-ups helped. "Thank you professor."

"Miss Granger wasn't the person filled with worry."

Harry blinked with surprise - the Headmaster had been worried about him?

"I don't- I don't know what to say, Headmaster." Honestly, what _did_ one say in a situation like that?

"Harry, I believe our recent conversations and talks allow you to call me Albus - so please do."

Harry sat still for a moment, surprised and a little confused. "Uh… Professor, I couln't possibly-"

"I insist, my dear boy."

Harry's gaze settled on his eyes. He looked tired and worn - more so than he had in a long time, but there was a way in which he looked at Harry - the way almost any orphan wanted someone to look at them. The way a father would look down at his son.

Harry gulped, but nodded, "Very well, si-Albus."

The name felt odd in his mouth - he had never spoken to an adult so familiarly… well except for Sirius who was - to be honest - more a child than an adult. Dumbledore smiled again seemingly pleased with something.

"As you might have guessed, from now on, our lessons will not only be about reviewing memories about Lord Voldemort's life but also about magic." Dumbledore's wand seemed to suddenly appear out of nowhere and he waved it around in a very complicated motion. Almost instantly, a tea-tray appeared on the desk between them, laden with two cups, a teapot and a small jug filled with milk.

"But first, Harry, I wish to ask you if there is anything you wish to tell me."

The sudden change in topic and atmosphere momentarily shocked Harry and he searched for an answer. He remembered that the only times Dumbledore had asked him such a question, was when Dumbledore had caught him leaving out some parts of a story. It wasn't outright lying… but it could be classified as such.

Harry raised a teacup to his lips and briefly looked down at the liquid - did it have a truth serum in it? He wouldn't put it past the Headmaster to lace his tea with a truth serum. The problem was, the Headmaster wouldn't know which teacup he would choose. So he pretended to take a sip.

"No Headmaster- Albus - there is nothing."

The Headmaster had reached for his own cup and was staring at Harry intently. Then seemingly coming to a decision, he nodded and suddenly relaxed.

"Very well. Shall we commence? I would like to see your skill in duelling before I properly start teaching you the art."

The Headmaster stood up and waved his wand in a wide arch. Almost instantly the objects in the room were swept to the sides. The office seemed to suddenly become longer, and a platform emerged from the floor. Harry instantly recognised it as a duelling platform.

Dumbledore gracefully walked to one end of the platform and Harry somewhat less gracefully to the other.

"Now, remember the rules, Harry. No unforgivable curses and no physical contact." He smiled and waved his wand. A number rose into the air and Harry realised it was a countdown. "The opponent is considered defeated when incapacitated. Do you agree to these rules?"

Harry nodded jerkily as his eyes wandered to the countdown, watching warily as the number 'three' turned into 'two'. Dumbledore had adopted the standard duelling position taught in schools. Suddenly Harry remembered the duel he had watched between Merlin and Morgana - if Dumbledore was as good as Merlin (and Harry had no doubt of that) then he wouldn't stand a chance.

Placing his right foot forwards, and his left foot behind him, Harry balanced his weight out between his two legs to create some stability. He raised his wand up and relaxed his arm. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow as it was not a standard duelling position - well at least not in _this_ era. Harry had noted that Merlin seemed to prefer this position as his core position. While duelling, he would doge, jump, move to the side, move forwards, but he would always return to this position.

And then the number 'one' became 'zero'.

Almost instantly, Dumbledore cast his first spell - which was the succeeded by at least five others. Harry refused to take the bait and go on the defensive and instead, pivoted. Three spells zoomed past him, colliding with a magical shield behind him. To his surprise, two other spells ricocheted off the wall and sped towards him and he was forced to raise a shield.

Then all of a sudden - a spell came to the forefront of his mind and he gritted his teeth. Merlin's fault no doubt. Nevertheless, he decided to use it.

" _Belä gä auxäthei,_ " Harry intoned. Almost instantly, the floor beneath them trembled, and out of the ground, emerged a cluster of what appeared to be birds made out of earth. On closer inspection however, one could have seen a numerous arrows.

" _Oppugno."_ Harry muttered silently and the arrows instantly flew at Dumbledore who ducked swiftly before transfigurating them into real birds which flew out of the office through the open windows.

" _Stupefy Duo, petrificus totalus, baubillious, confringo!"_ Dumbledore exclaimed, wand moving at a speed Harry had only seen when Merlin had duelled. Harry spun to avoid most of the spells, before returning to his original position. The Blasting Curse, which had been cast a few moments after the rest approached him fast and Harry winced when he noticed that he wouldn't have enough time to conjure a _protego._ Instead he concentrated on his magic, and forced it to the tip of his wand.

" _Revertetur alica,"_ Harry intoned. It was a spell he had invented himself. The idea was that his magic would envelop the spell, disallowing it to activate, then it would propell itself back at it's original caster. Harry grinned in victory as the Blasting Curse was thrown back at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in surprise and batted the spell to the side with a grin. Harry realised suddenly that the man was toying with him. Gritting his teeth, Harry waved his wand in a complicated motion. Instantly, every single piece of glass in the room broke.

" _Ad triae."_ As one, the broken shards rose and plummeted themselves at Dumbledore who was forced to conjure a round shield around himself. Harry watched, transfixed as the shards became specks of sand as soon as they hit Dumbledore's shield.

Dumbledore pointed his wand directly at Harry and was about to cast something when Harry shouted: " _Ignis Opus!"_

He'd learned that spell from the Weasley twins and was supposed to create fireworks. Harry grinned when fireworks emerged from his wand and engulfed the room. One particularly large firework exploded and the fireball that was created became a large head of a dragon which Harry instantly directed at Dumbledore who conjured a large shield of water.

The old man then manipulated the steam into several war figures which marched at Harry.

Harry winced as one figure slashed his sword at him and left a large, red welt where the steam had come into contact with his arm.

" _Ventus!"_ Harry exclaimed and a large jet of spiralling wind shot out of the tip of his wand. The steam figures instantly disolved and Harry directed the wind at Dumbledore, smirking when even with his shield, Dumbledore was forced to take a few steps backwards.

The duel continued for a few minutes which surprised Harry as he had thought that duelling Dumbledore would be much harder. Granted; he was much harder to duel than Mafloy - the man seemed to know what he was going to do a few second before he did it and it infuriated Harry. Also, the fact that he seemed to be playing with him, angered him too.

It was almost twenty minutes into the duel that Merlin's knowledge suddenly intervened and Harry found himself suddenly casting spells he had never learned in this timeline. And in that brief moment, Harry almost _believed_ that he was Merlin.

" _Excitate ignis draco,"_ Harry said in a near-praseltongue hiss. A large Horntail Dragon erupted from the tip of his wand - resembling Fiendfyre. It was hard to control as fire was one of the more passionate and uncontrollable branches of magic. That was why Fiendfyre was so feared.

Harry froze as he stared at his spell. This was Merlin's spell. he had used this against Morgana and Harry was now using it against Dumbledore. Harry gulped and gripped his wand tighter trying to stay in control.

And he lost control.

The dragon, realising it was free, charged at Dumbledore who barely managed to raise the proper shield in time. This was something similar to Fiendfyre and wouldn't - couldn't be extinguished via water.

Harry stared, still frozen, as Dumbledore attempted to battle the dragon. He knew no one had used the spell since Merlin's time… Dumbledore would have a hard time finding a way to extinguish the fire.

Then, with tightly pressed lips, Dumbledore managed to encase the dragon in a jail made of ice. It remained there, growling and spitting fire, but unable to get out.

Harry gulped. He had almost severely injured Dumbledore. The Headmaster didn't know that spell - Merlin had been the first and the last to cast it. Harry took a few steps backwards, like a frightened animal. He could have killed the Headmaster.

And then Dumbledore turned his usually twinkling eyes in Harry's direction.

Suddenly, they were devoid of joy or exuberance. They were the eyes of a tired, wary man. There was something akin to disappointment or weariness in those eyes. Harry kept taking hesitant steps backwards. He felt his back hit the wall and he whimpered.

Panic rose within him - starting in his belly and slowly rising to his mouth. He wouldn't - he couldn't let Merlin dominate. He was Harry. Harry Potter - not Merlin the revered, powerful sorcerer. He needed to leave Dumbledore's office. Suddenly, the walls seemed to close on him and Harry felt bile rise up to his mouth.

Scrambling to his feet - he hadn't noticed that he'd fallen down to his knees - Harry charged out of the office, barely noticing the way the doors opened without him casting a spell. He barely heard the Headmaster desperately calling his name.

.

"So, have you finally lost control?"

Harry's head snapped upwards as his gaze fell upon the portrait of Merlin. He was smirking at Harry. He turned away from the portrait and rested his warm, sweaty forehead against the wall.

"I was watching the duel you had with the Headmaster. The other portraits were very impressed."

Harry turned his head briefly to glare at him. His hands were shaking and he suddenly felt very thirsty. He knew he needed a pepper up and he cursed his addiction.

"You're going through the first stages of withdrawal, you know."

"Look. Just shut up!" Harry exclaimed suddenly, turning fully. "I have enough of you in here, alright!" He gestured to his head. Merlin sighed exasperatedly.

"Why won't you admit that you are me?" Merlin said quietly. Harry closed his eyes and leaned against the wall.

"I don't want to be you," he admitted. "Until the age of eleven I was neglected by my family. They treated me like a house-elf. I was _nothing_ to them… Then I was introduced to the magical world and suddenly I was a hero - the centre of attention." He paused and opened his eyes, staring up at the portrait. "I don't want to be that. I want to be an average, normal wizard, with a nice family and parents." He swallowed, "Being the reincarnation of Merlin - of you is just the opposite. I'll be singled out again…" He trailed off.

Merlin pursed his lips, then let out another sigh and leaned back into his own armchair.

"As you might already know - from your visions (Harry scowled) - I grew up in a poor environment. I also wanted to be a simple man with a family and two-point-five. Fate singled me out and gave me the magic of the old religion." Merlin paused and Harry looked down in shame; he hadn't known this. He had only seen what had happened to Merlin in the visions.

"Harry, we are both destined for so much more. You have the power and intellect to make a difference - why don't you use that to your full potential? Don't delude yourself into thinking that you might have a normal life. I tried to do that and thus wasted the first twenty years of my life. When the Druids found me they taught me, and educated me and brought me to my full potential. You won't ever have a normal life. Stop trying to live that imaginative normal life and become the wizard you could be."

With that, Merlin gave him one last kind smile, before slipping out of his portrait.

Harry sat there for some time, he wasn't sure how long, it could have been minutes or hours, he wasn't sure.

He felt exhausted beyond belief. That duel had taken more out of him than he had thought it would. Turning his thoughts to the duel, Harry winced. He wondered what would happen now. Dumbledore wouldn't turn him over to the aurors - and if he did, what would he accuse him of doing? No, Dumbledore wouldn't hand him off to the Ministry. He had been protecting Harry from the Ministry for a long time now, he wasn't about to hand Harry over to be interrogated.

Would Dumbledore expel him? Harry didn't know, and right now, he didn't really want to. Hogwarts was his home and he didn't want to leave it.

The duel with Dumbledore had been amazing and for one moment Harry had felt like Merlin. He loved magic… and during the duel the very air he had breathed had been charged with it… it had been amazing.

Strangely, Harry was reminded of the duel he'd had with Morgana. No. Not _He - Merlin_ had duelled with Morgana. But - Harry felt hesitant to admit it - his duel with his Headmaster had proved his power. Portrait Merlin was right… He wasn't normal - even by wizarding standards.

He was the Boy-Who-Lived.

He was the Chosen One.

He was _Merlin._

Harry sat there for a moment and stared at his past self's empty portrait. Hadn't Merlin said he'd receive and onslaught of know-

Oh.

 _Oh._

It was sudden… Harry hadn't been expecting it… Suddenly knowledge, memories and power was pouring into him with a speed which Harry's body knew not how to adapt to. It was as if suddenly, his whole body was charged with energy - as if he had just been hit by a bolt of electricity.

Harry's mouth opened in a silent scream of pain - he could hardly breathe - and then… he knew no more.

.

The tangy smell of disinfectant assaulted his nose and Harry instantly knew where he was. He didn't want to open his eyes, he knew that if he did, Madam Pomfrey would be alerted by her numerous wards and that she would come storming to his side. For now, he just wanted to lay in bed.

He felt odd. It was like he was in a foreign body… and there was so much _magic_ at his disposal. His very fingers itched with power and he simply wanted to do one spell. The Old Religion and the Ancient Magics had lain dormant for too long. And Merlin was back, and at the back of his mind, Harry could feel the Earth and Magic which lived in it was rejoicing, for the Old Religion was back.

Harry suddenly realised why he felt so odd… he was refreshed. He wasn't tired. He hadn't felt that way for… well… months…

Suddenly remembering that Merlin had been magic sensitive and had been able to see magic, Harry felt the sudden urge to open his eyes, consequences be damned.

His eyes fluttered open and he gasped with amazement. He wasn't disappointed. Magic had been practiced at Hogwarts for nearly a whole millennium and was saturated with Magic down to its very bones. There wasn't a single part of Hogwarts which wasn't saturated with it. Hence the reason why everything was brightly lit with colours.

Strings of magic waved in the air and magical objects around him had beautiful multicoloured auras. Raising his hand, Harry touched one such string of magic, shivering when it curled itself around his finger.

"Mister Potter!" Harry was snapped to reality as he heard Madam Pomfrey say his name. His hand dropped back down to his bed and his eyes snapped towards her.

Her face relaxed upon seeing that he was smiling contently at her. "How are you feeling, Mister Potter?"

Harry grabbed his glasses from the bedside table, put them on his face and stretched his arms in front of him, relaxing his slightly stiff body. "Quite well, Madam. Yourself?"

She seemed surprised at the question. "Very well. Thank you Mister Potter. But please _do_ remember who the patient is."

Harry chuckled and pulled himself up to sitting position.

"What happened?"

Pomfrey reached into a small purse - no doubt magically enlarged - tied around her waist and pulled out a potion which she gave to Harry.

"You were found on the third floor corridor, near the library with your magical core severely depleted." She eyed him, "This only happens when the wizard or witch performs a significantly large act of Magic." She paused evidently waiting for Harry to contribute.

He simply charmingly smiled at her and downed the potion.

"I assure you Madam, I have simply no idea how this happened." He gave her the vial back. She harrumphed in disbelief.

"I shall not press you for answers, Mr Potter. I know how you value your secrets, but I urge you tell the Headmaster the truth."

"Also, I shall be holding you here for a night for inspection. If you are well in the morning, you will be allowed to leave."

Madam Pomfrey then left him to his own devices and disappeared into her office. Harry smiled after her. Gazing around, Harry noticed that he was he only student in the infirmary - well, his was the only bed which was unmade. Talking about beds… Harry grinned as he saw the sweets that had been placed at the end of his bed and chuckled when he saw a small, travelling set of wizarding chess - most probably from Ron.

Harry didn't bother reaching towards it, instead he wiggled his fingers and felt a sudden heat in his eyes and he knew they had briefly turned golden. Magic of the Old Religon coursed through his body and converged on his fingers. Instantly, the set flew to his outstretched hand.

It was at that moment, that the doors to the infirmary opened, slightly hesitantly - and Dumbledore came in.

He was dressed in a royal blue robe with stars embroidered on it. They were twinkling, much like his eyes. His eyes roamed the infirmary before resting on Harry's form. Dumbledore walked hesitantly towards him and stopped a few feet away.

They both stared at each other for a few moments. Then Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Harry, I apologise. I am so profoundly sorry that our duel was so disastrous to your magical core." His voice was sorrowful and authentic enough.

Harry didn't quite know what to say. Their duel had been disastrous indeed, and he didn't know how to explain the dragon spell he had created in his past life.

"Professor-"

"Albus. Call me Albus."

Harry nodded seriously, "Albus, I- Look, it wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have used that spell."

Dumbledore regarded him calmly then nodded, accepting the apology. "I am curious - where did you learn it. I have never heard of anything like it…" He trailed off, staring at harry with a curious expression on his face. Harry coughed briefly, trying to make up an answer… He didn't want to tell Dumbledore who he had been in his past life just yet - he still hadn't really figured out who he was himself.

"I…" He paused, searching for a believable answer, "I… asked Professor Slughorn for a pass for he restricted section in the library."

It seemed like a plausible answer and technically it _was_ true. He had received a pass from Slughorn at the beginning of the year, after he had successfully won the Felix Felicis Potion. Dumbledore obviously didn't believe him - if his slightly narrowed eyes were any indication, but he let it pass.

Harry sighed in defeat. "Look. I can't tell you just yet, Pro-Albus. I hope you trust me enough to tell you the truth when I deem the time to be right."

Dumbledore stared at him for a long moment and Harry subconsciously brought his occlumency walls up. Finally, the Headmaster seemed to come to a decision because he nodded, and his countenance seemed to relax somewhat.

"Very well," he said with a nod. "I shall wait."

He then proceeded to conjure an armchair and seated himself down next to Harry.

Harry gestured to his chess set. "Chess?"

Dumbledore smiled and the a twinkle appeared in his eye. "Chess," he agreed.

Harry opened the box and instantly, the pieces arranged themselves in the correct positions. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, "I see Miss Granger is becoming increasingly adept at charms."

Harry chuckled. "That she is. Black or White?" Dumbledore selected white.

"Pawn to E4," Dumbledore stated seriously. Harry snorted - such a common move.

"Pawn to C5," Harry said, employing the Sicilian Defence.

"Knight to F3." Dumbledore countered.

"Pawn to E6."

"Pawn to D3." Dumbledore was using the King's Indian Attack - an attack usually used by more aggressive players. Harry raised his eyebrows and glanced up at Dumbledore who was smirking slightly. The Black side looked disorganised and chaotic - which was the purpose of his tactic. It would throw an experienced player like Dumbledore off.

"Knight to B6." Harry said slowly, eying the board carefully.

"Albus!" Cried a voice and both Harry and Dumbledore turned in surprise at a quickly approaching Madam Pomfrey. She looked murderous.

"Albus! Can't you see it's eleven o'clock?! What are you thinking. Mister Potter will be discharged tomorrow morning but for now he is under observation and will not be bothered!"

Harry hid a smile. Few people could scold Dumbledore like that - Madam Pomfrey was one of the few who could.

Dumbledore attempted to put a placating hand on her forearm, but she shook it off. Harry actually sniggered and earned a glare from Madam Pomfrey. "I apologise, Poppy." He glanced at Harry and winked at him. "I shall take my leave now."

Madam Pomfrey continued glaring at the closed doors after he had left, as if daring him to come back.

.

"Harry! Merlin, what happened to you!" Hermione exclaimed as soon as she saw him the next day at breakfast. She pulled him into a warm hug. Over her shoulder, Harry could see Ron standing up to greet him.

"Yeah, mate," He said, once Harry had managed to free himself from Hermione's grasp, "You were gone for three days. Pomfrey didn't let anyone see you!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. He hadn't known that he'd been asleep for so long - Pomfrey hadn't told him.

"I'm quite alright," Harry said placing one hand on Hermione's shoulder and the other on Ron's. "Thank you for your worry." His gaze turned down at the table laden with food. Ignoring the stares, he sat down on his usual spot. Hermione quickly slid down next to him, and Ron across from them.

"I'm quite famished!" He exclaimed.

"But what happened?" she asked quietly. Ron leaned forwards to hear their conversation.

Harry hesitated. "All in due course. I shall tell you later," he said slowly gazing at all of the people staring at them. Those who saw his accusing stare quickly turned away, blushing.

Hermione leaned back, staring at him with a raised eyebrow and he winced. She was already suspecting something. Ron was staring at him oddly as if he'd grown another head.

"You speak like him - like Dumbledore," Ron said slowly. Harry winced inwardly. He'd have to watch out. He spoke like Merlin had spoken in _his_ life - evidently, gaining all of his memories and powers had affected him more than he had originally thought.

"As I said, all in due course."

It was at that moment that there was a large number of screeches and almost everyone in the hall turned their hopeful gazes up the ceiling. The messenger owls had come with mail. Harry turned to his food; he rarely received mail as his _relatives_ couldn't really be bothered to write. The only other letters he ever received were from Sirius… and he was dead.

That was why he was surprised when an owl, with a red band around it's neck showing that he was a Hogwarts owl, landed directly in front of him. Harry gingerly took a the note from it's beak and watched it fly off. Hermione and Ron both looked at him expectantly. Both had owls in front of them, with newspapers in their beaks.

Harry pulled a small note from the envelope and was delighted to find a word, a letter and a number written in Dumbledore's emerald ink and handwriting.

 _Pawn to G3_

Harry let out a chuckle and turned to Hermione.

"Can I have your quill?"

She blinked at him in confusion, before reaching into her satchel and producing a quill and some ink. Harry wrote his answer on the back off the note and tucked it into his pocket. His answer was: _Pawn to G6._

"I'll be there for transfiguration - I have to go to the owlery to send my reply."

He left the Great Hall, feeling happier and more refreshed than he had in a long time.

* * *

 **Hopefully, I didn't scare anyone away with my excessive use of chess... I love the game, so...**

 **Thank you for reading -means a lot!**


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